Once, I (f/22) was on vacation with my boyfriend who's 23 years older than me. In our environment, the relationship is widely accepted, but outside of that, there are naturally some awkward and embarrassing situations. Like in Italy this year. We were sitting in a café at the beach and an older German couple began to talk to us. As we said goodbye, the woman said that she was personally very pleased to see a father with such a warm relationship with his daughter because sheâ€™d never had that in her life. In order to save myself a long explanation, I simply nodded, turned to my boyfriend, and laughingly said, "Come on, Dad!"
I thought that I would never see them again. That evening, my boyfriend and I sat on the terrace of our hotel and were holding hands and cuddling. Suddenly I saw one of those strange bikes for 4 people drive by with woman from the café on it. She gave us a horrified look and grabbed her husband by the arm dumbfounded. I would have gladly explained the situation, but she rode away on the crazy vehicle too quickly. I'll never forget the look on her face.
Now turning 27 I suddenly remembered accidentally crushing my pet gerbil when I was 7, and my brother who was 2 years behind had a pet budgie. We had a big blue box full of building play blocks that we always dumped them in the middle of our room, which our pets always found very candid, that sometimes they spontaneously fetched the bricks handing them over to us. Both our pets behaved and co-existed accordingly. Whenever we played and assembled different structures using the blocks, they somehow figured out which of the pieces were needed for us to complete building, even though not all of the parts they brought did fit, we had to put the piece in to avoid disappointing our pets. One night, my father came home from work and we heard our dog barking pretentiously, that I suddenly thought of my pet gerbil and immediately ran to to my room to check, I was shocked when I saw his cage was empty and quickly tried to look for it, thinking it could have made it's way through the door under. I made haste out of my room opening the door when i heard something snap, and that was when i saw heard something snap when I saw my pet gerbil's head cracked open, spurting blood, and convulsing. I immediately called out for my mother crying. Unfortunately it didn't survive the very daunting accident and died a few seconds afterwards. At first, I couldn't understand why he shouldn't be taken to the veterinary. The worst thing was admitting how my pet gerbil died,and for me to take responsibility. Everyone believed my story, even my brother who didn't see what had happened. Now my mother is now deceased, perhaps she'll see my pet gerbil in heaven.
At 18, I first met my then girlfriend. She had just dropped out of school shortly before finishing for reasons incomprehensible to me, but I didn't really care about it at the time. She was unemployed for about a year and looking to get more education. She started the new education program and a few months later I broke up with her. I felt trapped and had hardly any contact with my friends, parents, and siblings even though I still lived at home. I wish I could say that the story ends here and both lived happily ever after, but it isn't so. After about a month, she was already with someone new. This wasn't a problem for me at all because I didn't have feeling for her anymore. I had hardly any contact with her because we had a different group of friends. About six months after our breakup, we had a chance encounter at a village festival, and we spoke about the past and what was new. During the conversation, we started to fall for each other again. Finally she broke up with her boyfriend and we were a couple again. Here the real horror begins. She always talked a lot in her sleep and so after about a month, she confessed to me while sleeping that she had cheated on me with her ex. I spoke to her about it and she admitted it and assured me that it would never happen again, and after some reflection, I decided to forgive her. This should have been the second red flag, but unfortunately I didn't pay attention to it.
The following month, we tried to forget the past and build trust again. Everything worked, but not like I had imagined at the beginning, and I slowly started to think about leaving her for good. But fate had other things in mind because despite birth control, she got pregnant. Although I didn't want to be a father at 21, it quickly became clear that she wouldn’t abort the child, and I couldn't do anything about it. Because I didn't want my child to grow up without a father, I decided to try to stay with her. We moved in together and she finished her second education program early against my wishes because she was far along in the pregnancy. About a year after the birth of our absolutely adorable son, we got married. At this point I had already resigned myself to spending the rest of my life with a wife I didn't really love, so I loved my son even more. But then came the moment my life completely changed. After only nine months of marriage, she left me shortly after moving in with me. I immediately began to cry, not because of her but because of our child. Without further ado, I went to visit relatives for about four weeks and then moved into my own apartment. When we divided our property, I got the car, and she got the rest. I had to use my parent’s credit to pay for my new apartment and furniture, as well as the divorce that followed.
A few weeks later, she met someone new. Two months after that, she moved in with him along with my son. Three months later, he threw them out and she lived with her parents for two weeks. I now know the reason. My son was just about to have his third birthday, which meant no more spousal support from me and that she would have to find a job. So she had tried with all her might to convince him to have a child. He didn't want to, however, and couldn't trust her with birth control pills or condoms (you can ruin them with a needle), so he ended it. After two weeks with her parents, she moved into a new apartment and met someone new not even two weeks after the move. Three months later, she was pregnant by him and three months after that she moved in with him in a new apartment, and then married him shortly after.
Now for my confession: I hate my ex-wife because she forced me into our relationship and gutted me without my noticing. The furniture for all of the apartments together amounted to about 8,000 Euro of my cash, and the wedding for 2,000 Euro of my savings was still relatively cheap. The divorce took another 3,000 Euro from my bank account. Our whole relationship, I worked hard to feed her and our child. Afterwards, I paid her a hefty amount in spousal support for a whole year. I hate her because she's manipulative and bossy. I hate her because she occasionally turns my son against me, she tells him things that I supposedly did, while I don't tell him anything and worry that his little heart won't bear it. I hate her because she convinces him he should persuade me to agree to change his last name to be the same as her new husband. He's four years old now and cries when he's with me because he wants to change his last name, but what should I tell him? That I don't agree with it because I think she'll divorce her husband in two years and then they'll be a new husband and a new child and a new last name? He sits with me and cries because he's already moved six times and has been in three different preschools. This is why I hate my ex-wife. When I'm with her to pick up our kid, I smile and act friendly. I don't want my son to have to see us argue; children from divorced parents have it rough. I also hate her because to this day, I can't be sure if he really is my son, but I'm too scared to do a paternity test. If he wasn’t my son, it would certainly help my financial situation, but I love him so much that I really don’t want to know.
While I wait for her to leave her new husband and find a new spouse able to support her, I hope that the time until my son turns 10 or 12 passes quickly. I think he'll be old enough then to understand, to wonder what happened. I hope that he'll come to me then and ask what all took place, and I'll tell him bluntly. Furthermore, I hope that he takes after me and hates his mother just as much as I do. This hope gives me the courage to endure each day. In case it's her reading this, yes, I mean you. Hopefully there's not another person on earth who fits this story. I'm sorry for this extremely long story, but I could definitely add a lot more details. This is really just a rough outline of what was and what will be.
I (m/30) was once visiting some friends to delete the well-known "ukash virus" from their computer. This virus disables the computer and only releases it after you pay a fee. As I was there cleaning the virus from the Windows Registry, their young daughter (7) came into the room. She had to show me something on TV. So I went with her for a minute. Pokémon was currently on. She told me that she thought Pikachu was totally cute and wanted to have it as a pet and she asked me if I knew where you could buy a Pikachu. I explained to her that Pikachu stuffed animals were sold in toy stores and that she could ask her parents if they would buy her one. She insisted, however, that she wanted a "real Pikachu." I explained to her that Pikachu only existed on TV and couldn't jump out of it. I thought nothing of it and went back to working on the computer. After two hours, I finally completely eliminated the virus from the computer and could proudly present the result. My friends were relieved that they could use the computer normally again. At that moment we heard strange noises coming from the living room. It got louder and louder and suddenly there was a crash. We went to see what had happened. The daughter had hit the LCD screen with a hammer because she wanted a "real Pikachu" from TV. She thought it was trapped in the TV and wanted to free it. I'll never forget the parents' horrified look and I was amazed by how much strength a 7 year old girl can have. I definitely learned from this experience and in the future, I'll explain to little kids exactly how a TV works. Luckily no one was hurt and they also bought a new TV.
At the age of six, I started school and entered the first grade. My brother was already in sixth grade and my mother forced him to take me along so I didn't have to go alone. So I always went with him and his friends to school, but at a certain appropriate distance from them. I often didn't understand what the boys talked about, until one time I heard a few snippets of conversation about a toy. It came in many different colors and you could play great games with it. In my childish innocence, I assumed they were talking about Gameboys. So I spoke up and interrupted the conversation, "Yeah, my brother and I both have one. Mine is pink and his is clear and we play with them together all day!" Everyone burst out laughing, while my brother blushed red, glared at me, and swore. I didn't find out until much later that the conversation was about dildos and vibrators. I'm sorry that my brother was bullied and teased the rest of the year about that.